Afraid to Fall
by ArizonaRoseWolf
Summary: Sequel to Afraid to Love. John telling his story and other random tidbits.
1. Chapter 1

**So this is the sequel to 'Afraid to Love' and if you haven't read it then I strongly suggest you do because otherwise things might get a wee bit confusing later on. As in, the next couple of sentences. In which case you should probably stop reading this sand go read that. Have you stopped? No? You read ahead at your own peril. Don't blame me for spoilers to 'Afraid to Love' I did tell you to stop reading. If you have read it, thank you for doing so, I sincerely apologise for disappearing off the face of the planet for a while, i will be updating my other stories as well. For starters, this is a few weeks after John is released from the hospital. Also, I'm going to do this from John's view. For a while at least.**

Whatever the noise was, it needed to stop. The insistent banging was just adding to my pain. What was it now, two days since I got the letter? Just because my arm s's a little whacked and my stupid leg has decided it wants unnecessary attention does not mean I am incapable of doing my job. Okay, the hand bit may be a problem but I can still shoot. Probably. I'd know if Sherlock would let me near my pistol, but he's decided that it's his turn to take care of me. I find him highly adorable when he tries. (I sincerely hope he didn't hear me thinking that. I wouldn't put it past him).

"Sherlock! I know this is your flat! Stop ignoring me you great wanker!" Oh. Te banging is here for Sherlock. I'm just glad it's not one of Mycroft's men offering "assistance" again. I don't need pity. Idjits.

"Sherlock!"

I sighed and decided I should answer the door. This time. Gritting my teeth, I pushed myself from laying to standing. (It was easier if I didn't pause in the middle). Waiting for spots to clear, I felt along the wall for my cane. I can't wait for the stupid shoulder brace to come off. It'd make my life so much easier if I had the use of both hands.

After hobbling to the door, jarring my shoulder each step, I laid my Cain against the wall and opened the door. "What do ya want?"

A man in a fairly run down suit and several police officers stood in front of me, all of them looking embarrassed.

"Sorry, wrong flat." The suit-guy said, looking extremely red in the face. He turned to go.

"No, wait. You're looking for Sherlock?" The man paused and nodded. "This is his flat but he's not here."

"Do you know where he is? And why do you look so familiar?" The man stared at me. If I weren't used to Sherlock's stares, I would find his highly unnerving.

"He's off looking for a case. Have ya got one for him?"

"No. He stole some files, we're here to get them back." The man shifted slightly. "And what's your name?"

"Why do you need so many of you if you're just retrieving files? And I'll tell you my name when you tell me yours."

"Name's Lestrade and we're here for a drugs bust."

I glared. "He's not using. Don't throw his past in his face. It's rude." I slammed the door. Good riddance. Did I want to try the stairs or did I want to go back to the room Mrs. Hudson was letting me use.

The banging on the door had resumed. I sighed and hobbled back to the door. I slipped the chain into place before opening it partially again. "What now?"

"We need to speak to Sherlock." Idjit didn't know when to quit. "I already told you, he's not here."

"What happened to your arm?"

"I got shot. Not that it's any of your business"

"If a civilian got shot then it most definitely is my business."

"No it's _really_ not."

"It _really_ is."

I sighed. There was only one way to do this. "My name is Captain John Watson, MD. I've heard quite a bit about you, Detective, but I find myself unimpressed with you in person. Sherlock is not here, and you will not be doing any more drugs busts to him unless you have a warrant. Now if you don't mind I'm severely in need of my morning dose of painkillers. Sherlock will get into quite a tizzy if you make me miss a dose, ad I'll be the one to suffer because of it. I'd wish you good day but seeing as you'be ruined my morning, I don't think I will."

I slammed the door shut.


	2. Chapter 2

**So sorry my dears. Betsy, yes I name my technology, decided to completely crap out on me. Hopefully she's all better now. However, that does mean that I lost the second and third chapters of this, as well as chapters for my other stories. So now I'm behind. Please be patient with me.**

"John."

"John wake up."

"John!"

"M sleeping. Sh."

"Obviously not, or you wouldn't have answered."

"What do you want, Shlock?"

"For you to wake up."

I sigh and roll over, curling into myself.

"No, John, don't go armadillo on me. Wake up."

I crack open one eye and his face is inches from mine. "Little close there, Sherlock."

He stares at me, his sharp, ever-changing eyes watching me. "You were having a nightmare. It was a quiet one."

I sighed and closed my eyes again. Then I remembered earlier. "Lestrade tried to do a drugs bust. He shouldn't do that. It's not fair to bring up your past like that. How'd he even find out?"

I heard him shift around and move away. He didn't say anything. "Sherlock?" I sat up, more alert. He had moved to put his back against the wall and his knees were drawn up to his chest. "Sherlock, what's wrong?"

This wasn't normal. Not that he ever is, but this was abnormal even for him. I went over and sat beside him, wincing as my leg protested. (Stupid leg). He remained silent and refused to look at me. "Sherlock did something happen?"

Silence.

I gently took his head in my hand (the sling really needed to go) and turned him towards me, leaning forward until our foreheads were touching. "Sherlock... Did you get high?"

A single tear slipped of own his face. He answered in a thick voice, "Not on purpose."

"Tell me what happened?"

"It was a case. A teenager had O.D.'d. Or at least, that's what they thought. The kid had been murdered. And the mother knew it too, but she was to afraid to say anything. I investigated and when I got enough evidence I took it to Lestrade. He didn't want to believe me, he was overloaded with paperwork because a superintendent had just recently been killed. All resources were being devoted to that so I continued investigating. The man, the one who killed her, Davis or Dave or something like that, somehow knew about my past. He attacked me shortly after I visited the Yard. About a mile away, actually. He pumped enough heroin in me to knock me out. An officer on the way back to the Yard saw him run off. She called an ambulance. But I broke our deal. I got high and you paid the price."

By the end of this his voice had become so strangled as to be nearly illegible. He started rocking slightly, a sign I recognized quite well. I pulled him into a one-armed hug and ran my hand through his hair. "Sherlock, that wasn't your fault. That was just bad timing. Sh-Sh...that wasn't your fault. Nothing about that was your fault. You did the right thing in finding justice for the kid. Hush, now."

I placed my chin on the top of his curls and sighed. This was going to tale quite a lot to fix.


	3. Chapter 3

**Long story short: Bessie hates me. Please ignore the POV change. I'm trying to get over writer's block, I pray it doesn't show.**

John stifled a sigh as he ran his hand through Sherlock's curls. He needed a trim. Sherlock had been asleep for roughly an hour. (He couldn't get to his phone to check.) John was aware that most nights, Sherlock stood watch over him, stopping night terrors before they even started. More than once, John had come close to accidentally giving him a black eye. Sherlock ignored his apologies and just held him gently. Acting as if he were the most precious thing in the world.

John did sigh, this time, as he turned to the problem of tackling Sherlock's guilt. It wasn't Sherlock's fault one of the men in his unit had betrayed them. Colonel Sebastian Moran was an evil sort. The kind of man who took pleasure from inflicting pain. John had never trusted him to begin with. The only question John thought important was how to schedule a meeting with Mycroft without attracting the attention of Sherlock.

He was fully aware of the consequences of the knowledge he possessed, should it ever reach Sherlock's ears. Even Anthea wouldn't be able to get them out of trouble if Sherlock committed fratricide. John had only met the woman once when he was recovering, but Sherlock's mother terrified him.

"Stop thinking so loud, it's annoying."

John jumped slightly, "I wasn't aware you were awake." He started to pull away, but was stopped when Sherlock slipped his arms around his waist.

"Don't." Sherlock shifted so that he was sprawled over John like an overgrown house cat. "I'm quite comfortable where I am and so are you."

"Sherlock, about-"

The doorbell rang and Sherlock sprang up like a jack-in-the-box. "Should go see who that is. May be Lestrade with a case."

"Sherlock, we will be talking about-"

"Yes, yes, but there may be a case!" And Sherlock was out the door. John sighed again.

"Woohoo!" Mrs Hudson came in with a tea tray. She interrupted him before he could even start to protest by saying, "It's no problem, dearie, you just focus on building up your strength. Sherlock's gone out with that detective inspector lad, to look at a case. Would you like some company?"

John stifled another sigh. "Company'd be lovely, Mrs Hudson, just let me get dressed please."

**Thank-you for reviewing,**

Destiel101

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